Circle of Love (10 page)

Although none of the law enforcement professionals or witnesses quoted were absolutely sure, Frank and Jesse James were named as the suspected leaders of the band who stole cash, bondis, gold, and silver and shot a man to death.

The item went on to say that since the February robbery, banks had become a prime target Suspects in other robberies were named: the Daltons; the Youngers, who rode with the James gang; and the Connally brothers.

Frances sighed. Riots, robberies, shootings, deaths . . . Lee might have surrended the year before, but the hatred engendered by the war continued.

It wasn't until she was about to fold the paper and

put it away that she noticed a story near the bottom of the page: "Robbery at Gui^x)int" Someone had made a small pencil mark in the margin next to the stoiy. Eddie?

Frances scanned it quickly, reading about the robbery of the owner of a large and successful New York City dry goods store. Carefully, feeling the prickles that told her something was wrong, she read it again. The owner had given a description of the robber long, dark, curly hair and blue eyes. The robber also had the same height, weight, coloring, and probable age as Seth. Frances well remembered that Seth, on boarding the train, had been newly shaved, the skin on his chin and jawline much lighter than on the rest of his face.

The robber's clothes had been different, too— Confederate jacket and cap. . . . "Police were hunting . . ."

Letting the newspaper fall into her lap, Frances stifled a moan. She thought about Eddie's suspicions that Seth wasn't really a preacher, that he was too young to have studied divinity and also served time in the Confederate army. These were concerns she should have examined but had put out of her mind because . . . With a shiver she tried to face the truth. Could it have been because she'd grown fond of Seth?

Frances didn't need to read the rest of the story. Apparently more than enough money had been stolen to enable Oscar Seth Diller—or whoever he was—^to pay for a train ticket, a shave and haircut, and the preacher's clothing he was wearing.

As a traveling preacher he'd be above suspicion, Frances knew. It had been a lucky break for him that

while the police had been searching the train depot for him a group of children from a religions institution had been traveling on the train and he'd been able to blend in with them.

Hurt and angry, Frances scowled How could a grown man hide ^behind children? she wondered. How covld he u^e them — and me — to save himself?

But her heart told her, Be fair. You have no proof that Seth was the robber. He may ax^tuaily be a preacher. He may be perfectly innocent.

Do you really believe that he's innocent? she asked her heart accusingly. Do you believe he's a preacher? Eddie read this news story and marked it He tied it to the police officers who searched the train before we left. Eddie thinks Seth is the robber. And you do, too.

Her heart said, No. I don't want to think it. In a way he's much like Johnny. He's young and hurt and doesn't know what he's going to do with his life.

Oh, yeSy he does, her mind responded. He's traveling to Missouri with a purpose. He's made his plans.

What plans? I'm not sure he has aHy.

Find out what they are.

How? her heart asked.

Ask him, her mind told her.

But if I know, then I'll become a part of them. Ill have to do something about them.

What should I do? Frances asked herself at last But there was no one with whom she could discuss the problem. The decision was hers alone.

She glanced at her pocket watch: one hoiu- until they'd arrive in Harwood. Her heart gave a jump. One hour until the children would meet the people who had come to see them.

Jessie's solemn little face came to mind along with the unbidden thought, If anyone comes.

What was wrong with her? Frances wondered. Of course they'll come. They must com£. Please let them come!

She put the journal and newspaper inside her carpetbag and pulled out a hairbrush and a handful of wide white ribbons.

As she prepared to begin tidying the girls and making them look as presentable as possible, Seth joined her. ^There's not much time," he said.

"I know,'' Frances answered. "I keep thinking about how it was when I was an orphan train rider. I wish I could give the children extra courage to help them through the selection process. If only—"

"Don't talk about the children," Seth said. 'Talk about us."

Frances was taken aback. "W-What?" she stammered.

"I wish you could come with me," Seth said.

"I—I can't. You know that."

"At least not for now, Frances Kelly." Seth smiled. "But, as I said, I know how to find you and that little schoolteacher's house of yours near Maxville, Kan-sas.

Frances put a hand on his arm. "Seth, please don't"

A yell rang through the railway car. Sam ran from Marcus, who tackled him at Frances's feet. Seth jerked the boys up and pulled them apart, but they continued to struggle.

"He called me a name!" Marcus shouted.

"He said I was a liar!" Sam yelled.

The struggles and complaints continued until Eddie wiggled through the knot of onlookers. "C'mon,

chums," he said. "We're goin' to be in Harwood soon. You gotta settle down and get ready."

Instantly the fighting stopped. Both Sam and Marcus turned apologetic faces to Frances.

"Sorry we were scrapping" Sam said.

"Yeah. We're,sOrry," Marcus added.

Frances studied Eddie. His eyes gleamed with a secret excitement as his gaze met hers, and he quickly looked away. The fight had stopped too suddenly to be real. Had Sam and Marcus staged a distracting fight to take attention away ftt)m Eddie? All she could hope was that Ekidie would soon tell her what had ha^ppened and why.

Frances didn't have long to wait She finished tying a hair bow that sat on top of Mary Beth's hair like a large white butterfly. "You look beautiful," Frances told Mary Beth.

"I wonder, did my mother ever tie ribbons in my hair?" Mary Beth asked. "I was so young when she died that I can't remember."

Lizzie, again in Mary Beth's arms, patted the bow in her own hair. "Pretty," she said.

"You are pretty," Mary Beth told her. "You're a very pretty baby. Someone will choose you right away." She glanced up at Frances. "I feel like Lizzie's my little sister. I'm going to miss her."

Frances beckoned to Aggie, who was watching beside them. "I've saved a special ribbon for you, Ag-gie.

Aggie took a step toward Frances, but stopped when Jessie said, "A ribbon won't do Aggie much good. Her hair looks like cat fur. How are you going to tie the ribbon so it will stay on her head?"

"I don't want a ribbon," Aggie said. "I don't need

one." She plopped into the nearest seat and stared out the window.

"Let's all sit down," Frances said, knowing that nothing she might say to Aggie right now would help soothe her feelings. "It's only half an hour to Har-wood. We all look fresh and bright, and if we sit stiD, we'll stay that way."

Eddie was waiting for Frances as she took her seat

Frances lowered her voice to just above a whisper. "You set up that fight, didn't you?"

Eddie nodded. "I'm sorry for all the yellin' and such, but the fight worked out fine. Seth Connally was kept so busy he didn't see me go through his carpetbag."

"Eddie! That's his private property. You didn't have the right to do that!" Frances stopped, suddenly struck by something else Eddie had said. "Are you talking about Reverend Diller? You called him Seth Connally."

"That's who he is—Seth Connally. Just like I thought, he's not a preacher and his name isn't DiUer." Eddie didn't stop for breath. "He's got a big handgun in his carpetbag, along with a rolled-up Confederate jacket. And there were some letters from his brothers, and—"

"Eddie!"

"I didn't read 'em." He shrugged. "Mostly because there wasn't enough time. But I read a newspaper clipping that fell out of one of the envelopes. It told about the Harwood Central Bank and—"

Startled, Frances interrupted. "Why would—" She gasped as she remembered the newspaper story. "Connally! The Connally brothers! Seth said he was

planning to join his brothers. To rob banks? To rob the Harwood Bank? We have to do something to stop him!"

"There's a telegraph^" Eddie began, but Seth squeezed into the seat with Frances and Eddie.

"No telegrams/^ he said in a low voice to Frances.

Eddie, who w^as squashed in the middle, tried to wriggle free, but he froze as Seth warned him, *The gun's no longer in my carpetbag. It's under my coat— where I can get to it fast—and I'll use it if I have to."

Eddie gulped and huddled against Frances.

"You aren't going to endanger these children, Seth," she said.

'The children won't be in danger," he said. He slowly shook his head. "I was going to tell you every-thin' when we met in Kansas. I thought in the meantime I could trust you."

Indignantly Frances asked, *Trust me to do what? Stand by and allow you to get away with robbery? Don't you care about the children at all? You even used them to shield you when you came aboard the train."

He looked puzzled. "I didn't plan on them shieldin' me. It was just a matter of belongin' to your group. I wouldn't have done anythin' to hurt them." He stopped and tilted his head, looking at her question-ingly. "How did you figure it out?"

"A newspaper story about the New York City robbery," she said. "And the fact that you may be dressed like a preacher, but you certainly don't act or talk like one."

Seth grinned. "Or think like one. As you reminded me, preachers don't hold with revenge, do they?" He reached out a hand and lightly touched her cheek. "Don't think badly of me, Frances. With a Uttle for-

giveness on your part, we could be happy together. I'd be good to you, and you could be happy with me. You like me. You know you do."

Angrily Frances shook her head. "I did like you— as a friend—when I thought you were someone who could learn to put the war behind you. But I don't like what you're doing, Seth."

"I told you what happened to my parents, and what happened to me in a Union prison. I have a right to take revenge," he insisted.

"No, you don't," Frances told him. "You'll hurt innocent people."

'These so-called innocent people didn't care about what happened to me."

"Seth, they didn't have a chance. Anyhow, it doesn't matter. If you—"

"It matters to me."

"Seth, please—"

Seth reached across Eddie to grab Frances's arm, and she winced at the hard pressure of his fingers. "Listen to me!" he said in a voice that had suddenly become deadly serious. "We're runnin' out of time. I offered myself, and you turned me down. If that's the way you want it, then pay attention, because I'm goin' to teU you what to do. You haven't got a choice." He pulled out his watch and glanced at it 'Twenty minutes to Harwood. Right on schedule."

He pulled a kerchief from his pocket and tied it loosely aroimd his neck. As he got to his feet he said, "Pick up my carpetbag, Eddie."

As Eddie gripped the handle ivith trembling fingers, Seth jerked him to his feet and held him by his collar. "Goodbye, Frances," Seth said. "Don't forget me. Someday 111 come find you to see if you've changed your mind."

Screeching, shaking, the train suddenly came to a stop. Some of the passengers cried out. A woman screamed, "Robbers! They're right outside our car!"

Frances turned to look and saw three men on horseback with a saddled horse in tow. The men wore kerchiefs lit^e Seth's, but theirs were pulled over the lower halves of their faces, concealing them. One man rode to the front of the train. One kept his rifle trained on the car in which Frances and the children were riding.

Seth's voice softened as he said to Frances, "Fm sorry. I want to trust you, to know you'd stand by me no matter what, but I don't think I can, so I'm takin' the boy."

Ekldie's face was white with fear. He struggled, but Seth yanked him backward, pulling him toward the outer door of the railway car.

"No! You can't take Eddie. I won't let you." Frances stood and faced Seth.

Seth drew out his handgun and pointed it at her. She heard a few whimpers of fear ftx)m the children and some gasps from the few adult passengers at the back of the car, but none of them dar^ to move or even speak.

"Didn't you hear me? I said you don't have a choice," Seth told her.

Frances stared into Seth*s eyes as she slowly walked toward him and his gun. "You won't shoot me," she said, "and you won't hurt Eddie. There's a great deal of hatred bottled up within you, Seth, but there's still some goodness and decency. Let go of Eddie. Give him to me."

She saw the horsemen join forces again. Impatiently they rode toward the car Seth was in.

"Come on, brother!" one of them yelled. "We're wastin' time!"

Seth glanced quickly at the horsemen, then back at Frances.

"Give Eddie to me," she repeated.

Seth hesitated. Then, in one quick movement, he shoved the gun into his belt and pushed Eddie toward Frances. No longer a cocky street urchin, Eddie wrapped his arms tightly around Frances, clinging to her.

hi two long strides, Seth reached the door of the railway car, shoved it open, and leaped down the steps. He ran to join his brothers.

As he jumped onto tus horse and began riding away, Frances cried out, "Those men are going to rob the bank in Harwood! We have to stop them!"

While the terrihed children clung t» their seats, the other adults in the car jumped up. Some ran to peer through the windovrs, and a few got in the way of the conductor, who burst into the car to see if any of the passengers had been harmed.

"We're fine," Frances told him. "But what about the others on the train? Did the men rob anyone?"

"rm afraid so," the conductor said. "Mr. Gladney's mad as a stuck pig. Mrs. Gladney's crying over losing her mother's peart necklace."

Even though Eddie's smile was wobbly, he said, **She'll get her necklace back. The money, too."

"Son, it's not that ea^," the conductor began, but Eddie turned to Frances. "Remember, I told you, the telegraph—"